Proof
by Annakolo
Summary: It'd been seven years. Brock had left her seven years ago and he left because she wasn't beautiful enough for him. She couldn't be beautiful. At least that is how it was in Reba's mind.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey Reba. Got a minute?" Brock barged through the front door of Reba's home, a trying habit that he had acquired from years of living right down the street. Reba shifted forward to a sitting position on her worn couch, cradling her head in the palms of her hands. Frustrated, she retorted, "I got years, Brock, but they certainly weren't all made for you."

Unaffected by Reba's customary jab, Brock made his way to the deep seated chair that sat cock-eyed to the couch, falling into it, his usual clumsiness prevalent. He glanced upon Reba, but as he opened his mouth to start talking, an involuntary action snapped his jaw back closed. His eyes were locked on his ex-wife in a magnetic trance.

She'd changed over the past few years. Her hair had grown steadily longer, now levelling at her shoulders, but never lost its luster. She seemed thinner, frailer. I guess that's what age does to people. She was littered with a few more freckles on her forearms and her skin seemed paler. Her eyes drooped some and the laugh lines engraved themselves deeper. Much had changed about her, but Reba remained beautiful. Every aspect of her was absolute perfection; From the tips of her toes to the length of her every hair. Despite the beauty that everyone around her saw, what she assumed was a fact laid stolid on Reba's mind. She was not beautiful; she wasn't beautiful enough for her husband, so he left her.

"What business did you have comin' here, Brock?" He snapped out of his trance, wild-eyed. How long had he been staring at her? Dad blame it, what had he come here for? "I—I-uh—I uhh. I can't remember. I better get goin'." Brock jumped from his chair and stumbled over his feet as he practically ran to the front door. He opened it and slammed it shut behind him, placing his back flat up against the outside of the closed door. He slid down so that his knees were tucked into his chest, thinking back over how the past 5 minutes had gone; regretting how he'd done her wrong 7 years ago. He couldn't help but think about where they'd be now if he hadn't been so naïve.

"Hey Reba, what's new? Oh, nothing Reba…except that you live with and around complete morons." Reba battled with herself, eventually picking herself up, her legs carrying her to the kitchen. She made her way around the cluttered island and sighed at the cleaning task that lay ahead. She flicked on the faucet and began to run the dirty dishes under the warm water.

Outside, Brock pulled himself up and brushed the dirt off of his pant legs, realization of why he came over hitting him. He took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob once again. Reba called out from the kitchen, checking who it was that entered her house. He answered hear and an audible groan could be heard from the kitchen.

As Brock crossed through the doorway and Reba came into view, he joked, "Hey, you should really clean your front porch." Brock received an eye roll so big from her that it ought to have been painful. "Whaddya need now, Brock or is it just that I'm irresistible?" A sly smile crept across Reba's face while the complete opposite happened in Brock. It took all that he had to not to tell her how he really felt, which was the latter of the two. Again, he stumbled over his words, "I—uh no. Sorry. Um—I came to tell you something." "And?" Reba asked, growing impatient. "How do I say this? Um—Barbara Jean and I are getting a divorce. We filed last month and it should be final within a matter of weeks."

Reba's mouth hung agape. There was silence. An anger grew in her eyes.

"You what?" Her voice grew steadily more violent. Brock knew better than to get into this fight. He stayed completely still, waiting for the storm to blow through. "You are divorcing the woman you left me for? The one that you loved more than me? The one that I hated for so long but now have learned to love? You amaze me Brock! What did she do to you? Damn it, Brock! Was she no longer beautiful in your eyes, so you leave her high and dry, just like me?"

Brock had no idea what to say. Reba didn't believe that she was beautiful. The most gorgeous woman he knew didn't feel the same about herself. He wasn't able to look at her. He was so ashamed of himself. He stood there, the blow of the storm hitting him full force. Though the worst of it was over, the rain had just started. A tear, the first of many, hit the floor directly in front of Brock, pooling together with the ones accumulating from Reba.


	2. Chapter 2

Brock's head hung lower than it'd ever. Lower than when he moved into the condominium. Lower than when he found out that Barbara Jean was pregnant. Still lower than when the tip of his pen released from his and Reba's divorce papers. How had he let this go on for so long?

Reba spoke first, pulling out a chair for her to sit in while wiping a few stray tears from her face. "Well, I never thought it'd have to come to this, Brock. But I guess I can no longer influence your decision, so I wish you both the best of luck as you go your separate ways in life."

Brock fiddled with the hem of his shirt, trying to slow the stream of tears falling down his face. Head still hung, he nodded and cleared his throat.

"Um, yeah, thank you. So, I'll see you around Reba?" looking up to catch her line of vision. A sad smile formed on Reba's face, "Yeah, Brock. See you around."

Just like that he was gone again. Walked straight out the door like he had the day of the fight. The only difference was in the manner he left. 7 years ago, he left angry. Fuming and furious, he stomped out of the house to find comfort in the arms of another woman. But today he left ashamed. Humiliated in his actions and embarrassed in the lack of attention he paid towards Reba's mental state. With no resort to turn to, Brock made his way back to he and Barbara Jean's house to retrieve his car, packed to the rafters with his stuff to move to the condo.

Reba pressed her back flat against the chair that she was sitting in and closed her eyes, an attempt to relieve the pressure of stress in her temples. Jake, who was now a sophomore in high school and the only child still living under Reba's roof, skulked into the kitchen after hearing the ruckus between his mom and dad. Seeing the state in which his mom was in, he revealed himself, asking, "Hey mom. You okay?" Reba's eyes shot open, seeing her baby boy with a look of concern plastered on his face.

With a small, reassuring smile Reba replied, "Yeah baby, I'm fine." Pulling herself up from the chair she was occupying she made her way over to Jake, accepting him in a warm hug. "Now that I have you trapped, will you go and put on your church clothes please?" Reba could feel Jake's laugh vibrate against her chest. Jake pulled away, slinking away and rebutting her as he walked, "Yes, warden." With a hearty laugh, which she'd desperately needed, Reba followed Jake out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Reba entered her room shutting the door behind her. As she walked up to the closet made for two, her own willpower did not present a strong enough presence to prevent itself from being taken over by unwanted thoughts. The undesirable feelings had a way of dictating everything that Reba thought and did, lending her to complete tasks she'd never free from influence.

Her hand gravitated to the back left portion of her closet, a side that rarely was touched anymore. Feeling around, her hand grasped a hanger holding a dress made of soft polyester fabric in a shade of sapphire blue; Brock's favorite.

Better judgement had long left her mind and Reba slipped into dress, making her way over to the full length mirror. Having stood there many times before in this very dress, memories came flooding into Reba's mind, replaying without notice.

"Brock, honey, are you about ready to go?" Reba asked while smoothing the soft lines of fabric that graced her body, giving herself one last look over in front of the full length mirror. Brock had bought Reba this dress specifically for a night like this. A night for just the two of them. No toddlers screaming and crying, no stress of work or schooling, just romance.

The dress was unlike anything Reba ever would've bought for herself. Straps just over 2 finger lengths in width held up the low cut, skin tight, knee length, rich blue dress. It hugged Reba's body in every beautiful curve, it's slight shimmer creating an essence of angelic splendor.

Brock exited the adjoined bathroom, finishing off the task of buttoning his shirt when his mouth fell agape due to the sight in front of him. His legs needed no orders to carry him over towards his stunning wife, he seemingly just gravitated to her. Behind her, Brock pressed his body tight against hers, his hands finding a nice resting place on her hips.

Making eye contact through the reflection in the mirror, Brock whispered in a husky tone, "You look so beautiful, baby." With his mind cleared of the only thought formed, he tilted his head to the side some, leaving him in the prime place to place gentle kisses along Reba's jawline.

With a giggle and a low moan, Reba turned in Brock's embrace, capturing his lips with hers.

As quickly as this memory had started, it fleeted from her mind. Still looking at herself in the mirror, a tear ran down her face and soaked into the indulgent fabric of the dress. This dress no longer held the magic that it owned in those nights. The only purpose that the dress served now was as a reminder. A reminder of how she was once beautiful and elegant and alluring; Brock's one and only love.

The dress burned on Reba's skin. The lost meaning seeped into her skin, searing off the top layer of skin, leaving her with all of her sentiments out in the open for all to see. The tough woman was gone; her steel armor absent. All that was left to do was rip off the dress and put on a sheath of makeshift armor, something emotionless that portrayed how she felt, ugly and unwanted.


End file.
